It's Not Easy To Be Me
by Angel Greenwood
Summary: Well, the title pretty much says it. I've decided to write about a lonely teenage lesbian who has split parents, a brother who doesn't care and friends who have saved her life.
1. Chapter 1

"Please! Oh god, no. Oh god, help me, no. Please, mommy. PLEASE!"

They found out. It was over. There was no point in screaming back or begging, they wouldn't listen. I did anyway.

"Please don't! Please don't take her away form me! PLEASE MOMMY! PLEASE!" The tears were falling so thickly I couldn't see and my sobbing hurt my stomach it was so powerful. I hiccupped and wailed, crouched on the floor on my knees, begging. I tore at my hair, clawed my face.

"A teacher who knows you and us was concerned and told me about your relationship with Annalina. You are never to speak to her again. You are not to have any contact with her again."

"Noooo! Please mommy, no. Please! I can't say goodbye? Please just let me say goodbye."

"No. No contact."

"PLEASE! Just to say goodbye!"

"If you talk to her again, Ariadne, we will go get a restraining order on her at the police station."

"No! No no no no no no no… Please mommy, just to say goodbye? Please. Oh god, please."

"No. Get up and get in the car, we're going to her fucking house. I need to speak with her mother."

I could not obey and would have rather thrown up on her feet as I feared I might. Nausea was threatening to overcome me even as I sat shaking on the floor. The sobs were too much; I was hugging myself, terrified to fall apart. It was all wrong. They were never supposed to know. _Oh god, what have I done? Oh god, help me. Don't let them take her from me. Oh god, no._

I stumbled through the house and into the waiting minivan. I bumped into everything on the way through, unable to do anything but wail and sob so hard my head spun. All the while, begging them to stop, to not take her away, to let me say goodbye.

My parents were crying on the road but mine was more violent and shuddering.

Suddenly, hatred bloomed deep in my chest. It built in intensity until I could feel it oozing out of my pores. Hatred for the wretched people in front of me.

Hatred I hadn't felt in a long time, since I was bullied in elementary school.

Hatred I wanted them to know existed, scorching my insides like an inferno.

_I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I hate them… Oh please god, don't let this happen. Please don't let them take her. I'll do anything. Please exist, please help me. Oh god, no. Oh god, no no no no….._

We pulled into her driveway and my hysteria climbed to another height as I saw the living room light on.

"Please mom! Please! PLEASE MOMMY!"

She didn't answer but left the car and ran up the steps to knock violently on the front door. I hiccupped and choked somehow on air as she stood in the doorway a moment after the door opened and she walked inside. My father was silent in the driver's seat, watching the house. My terror of my parents was the only thing keeping me seated. I was so scared…..

_Oh god, what's going on? What is she saying?_ She was in there for what feels like hours until she came back out and into the car, sobbing almost as badly as me.

_Oh Lina, Lina, Lina, Lina, Lina, Lina, Lina…_

_Oh god, no. Please. Please please please…. Oh god, what have I done?_

The next morning came with a sore body and an aching head. My eyes throbbed and I wished only to go to sleep again and never wake in this life once more. Even as I groaned and whimpered my mind was clear.

I had to talk to her. I had to. _Oh Lina, my darling, I'm sorry. Oh god, I love you._

The bus pulled up to the school and I leapt out. I was unable to get to her before the bell rung and then she was hidden in the crowd. Gym class finally arrived and I passed through the high school cafeteria. She was alone at her normal table then two of her friends sat beside her. I knew she could see me. She wouldn't raise her head. I came up behind her and rested my hand on her shoulder.

"Lina, I'm so sorry about last night. I'm so sorry. Oh god, I-" She interrupted me quietly.

"Ari, you shouldn't be here. I can't talk to you. I don't want to get in trouble." I was so surprised at her answer that I was speechless. I tried to hug her but she pulled away. She wouldn't even look at me. That hurt more than a dagger ever could.

"Fine!" I spun on my heel and walked stiffly away, stifling hot angry tears. _She'll talk to me later, she's just angry about last night._ I tried to reassure myself. It didn't work so well.

I got home from school and my father wasn't around. Half an hour went by as I sat in the living room, hugging my teddy bear. Suddenly both parents walked in, furious and crying.

"You didn't listen to us, Ariadne. We are going to the station right now to get a restraining order."

"NOO!"

"Yes! You didn't listen to us and now she's going to pay the price." My horror and tears began anew. _How can they do this to me? I love her so much, how can they do this? She's going to hate me. Oh my god, she's going to hate me. What have I done? Oh god Lina, I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm sorry. Oh god, please don't hate me…._


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks have passed and all I can think about is her. She's in my every thought. My eyes have dried up but the pain is just as sharp and tearing. I can't feel my heart anymore. I can't feel anything. I'm so numb. Nothing has made me smile or laugh since that horrible night. Lina avoids me in the halls, she won't even look at me. Every time I see her I freeze, frozen in terror and anguish. All I have ever wanted is to hold her, to be close to her. She means everything to me. I never fell in love before I met her. And now she's not here. I can't breathe anymore.

My mother hasn't let me leave the house except to go to school since. I hate this house. It's a prison. A cage. I'm caged like an animal, some dangerous criminal. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate my parents so much I can't stand it. Hate is all I know. It's the only emotion I have left. She won't tell me anything about the restraining order or when it's over. Or when court dates are, and she certainly will not let me go to them. I've begged to go but she will not let me. She knows with my testimony Lina would be allowed to continue on without all that heartache but she can't let that happen. She says it's to protect me from the emotional taxation of being there and that it would be too much for me to handle. Stupid bitch. I know what I can handle and I know who I am much better than she ever has. Or will, for that matter. I want to be there for her. Oh god, what have I done?

When I get home I lay on my bed in the fetal position, holding my teddy bear so tightly my hands fall asleep in only a few minutes. Hours pass by but I don't move. _Maybe if I don't move, maybe if I just stay like this forever nothing else horrible can happen. I won't lose anyone. I won't feel horror and despair. Oh god, I'm so alone. My silent demise, my quiet nightmare. I can't feel anything anymore. Oh god Lina, I miss you. I miss you so much. I love you more than I could possibly say. I can't do this without you. You gave me so much light and joy, a love I never believed possible. You made me feel beautiful when I felt ugly. You made me laugh when I might cry. Damnit, you listened. You actually cared about what I had to say. You never told me I was stupid or hideous. Lina, you mean everything to me. And I can't tell you. Oh god, help me. I love you Annalina Anderson. Please remember that. Please don't hate me._

My grades have suffered considerably but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. When I'm in school I simply stare at the teacher blankly, dreaming about Lina. Remembering our beautiful romance, though short it was. People say it's impossible to truly fall in love in high school or to know someone after only a month. I say they lie. I told her everything, and she me. Lina's so smart and funny, so beautiful and loving. Who couldn't love that angel? That incredible being of heaven?

"I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't wanna go home right now." –The Goo Goo Dolls' Iris.

She spoke through music as I do. Hell, Lina knew more music than anyone else I've ever met. Her ipod had close to 1,000 songs on it and she still wasn't done putting them on. Her stereo was huge and with kickass speakers. And she read. Oh stars, did she read books. I loved it. I still love it. She was everything and anything I had ever wanted.

You think I'm crazy. You think I'm some dumb teenager who only thinks she's in love. You won't understand unless I give you my story.

Well, in elementary school I was picked on so badly I dreamed of suicide. I wanted to die so badly I thought of different ways every day, each more painful than the last. That was the first time I ever went numb. They ripped me apart. They tore my self esteem into shreds, laughingly squishing it into the mud. I had always been bullied a little but it never got very bad until I befriended a kid named Jeremiah. He was obnoxious but sweet. In fact, I thought he was really nice. But everyone made fun of him like crazy. Poor kid had absolutely no friends. So I was his friend. That was a mistake.

I was in fifth grade and still believed there was good in people somewhere. He asked me to go trick or treating with him and I wrote him a note back, saying I was very happy to go with him and I loved that we were friends. Another student found the note and gave it to a teacher in my grade, who read it out loud to his class. After that, I was "Jeremiah Lover". They ridiculed me for being nice to someone who didn't have anyone else. For being his friend because even though he could be very annoying, I thought he was a really sweet guy.

After he left our school, I was the number one loser. Kids younger than me even made fun of me. Everyone did. I had about five "friends". But can you really call someone a friend if they weren't there for you? If they just stood by and watched as you were emotionally beaten down to nothing? They never helped me. Not once. I was completely alone.

They made fun of how I ride horses. They called me "horse" and "horsey". They stomped their feet on the floor as I walked by like a horse's hooves on tar. They whinnied in my ears when they passed my seat. I was dirt. Less than that to them.

I started dreaming about killing them. I dreamed of murdering them every night. Of burning, stabbing, hanging, strangling, smothering, everything. I bathed in their blood. I lived for those dreams. It was the only way I could fight back. I loved it.

The only respite from the horror I could find was books. I could sink into a book, hide away from the world. The only thing I did anymore was read. Books were nicer than people. They never hurt you; they never laughed at you or made you feel small. They were my safe-haven, my sanctuary. I preferred the company of pages and printed words to people. Sometimes I still do. For some reason the problems of the characters in my stories were never as bad as my own. They had to save the world against all odds, but I had to go to school the next morning. I would've preferred having the world on my shoulders.

My trust in people had vanished. I didn't trust anyone, not even my "friends". I hated everyone and everything. I no longer cared about school, or friends, or family, or life.

I was ready to die.

When you're told every day for years that you're ugly and stupid and should go kill yourself, you start to believe them. Even though you know they're lies and horrible excuses for people, you believe them.

I started thinking up ways to kill myself. After careful deliberation, it was probably a gun. My father had some in the house so I knew how to get to one. If that didn't work, kitchen knives could be very sharp. All I knew was that I was tired of feeling nothing. I was a husk, an empty shell. I had nothing left.

At the end of sixth grade, I was going to the high school. It was that thought that kept me from ending my life prematurely. I told myself when I got to junior high that if things didn't get better in two weeks, I was done. I gave myself two weeks to live from the day school started.

Having the date and a method so nearby gave me a measure of relief I hadn't felt in years.

Then something happened. Some other girls from the next town were going to my school too, and they were really nice. Actually, they were fantastic. I could actually sit near them, with them. I left my hometown "friends" where they sat and went to be with the others. They told me they liked my company, even that I was funny. It was amazing. Someone was being nice to me. A few someones. They wanted to be around me. They didn't tell me to go kill myself or that I was ugly. They said I was pretty. I couldn't believe it. Somebody seemed to care. At first I was suspicious. Why had they any reason to be nice? They could've just been like everyone else, waiting to hurt me or sit by and watch. Why were they so nice? Then as time went on, I realized their affection was sincere. I had friends. Real friends. People who liked me and talked to me. When two weeks were finished, I sat on my bed and cried. I cried tears of joy and relief. Of pure and sweet happiness. I hadn't cried in months. I didn't need to die anymore.

I had something to live for.

Now maybe you understand that I don't let people get close to me. I'm suspicious of everyone, always watchful and cautious. I had seen people turn on a dime for no reason other than to hurt me. Very few people exist in my heart. I never let anyone see it. People are dangerous. Now maybe you understand why losing Lina has been so heartbreaking. I let few near me, and fewer into my heart. So when they're gone, I'm empty again. When you've been hurt as I was, you learn some self preservation. Books were my shield, but now I didn't need them so much. Now I had friends who stood up for me. For the first time in a long time, I felt loved.

Yeah, I know. I'm a sick little girl. Oh well.

Still think I'm too young to love? There is no age limit for an emotion like that. I almost wish there was, for the pain of losing Lina is crushing. Depression is no joke. It happens everywhere, every day. I hope you never experience such anguish as I have. No one deserves that.


	3. Chapter 3

Some time later as eighth grade started, I came out of the closet to my friends. It had taken me thirteen years to admit to myself that I like girls. There was so much confusion it still makes me sad to think of how terrified I was. I found myself looking at girls and admiring them but not knowing why. I knew about homosexuality because of my two gay uncles (who I love deeply and are wonderful to be around) but never seemed to put it together. Or maybe I didn't want to. I thought having a crush on someone was picking a person and saying it. I didn't actually know what it was like to like someone. I had had crushes before on girls but never knew what they were. Actually, it used to scare me. I thought there was something wrong with me that I would become "obsessed" with girls and couldn't seem to feel what other girls told me they felt for some boys. I didn't understand. I was scared of my head. I even wrote about it once:

Confusion

Have you ever been frightened of your own brain?

I can assure you, no feeling is quite the same.

It's like being sucked in, without any place to go.

Unless you've been through it, you could never know.

It laughs at your terror and screams at your love.

It tears up the ground and chews the sky above.

It confuses every touch and murders every delight.

It takes away daytime and covers you with night.

There is no escape; it's always in your face:

Taunting your conformity, forever giving chase.

You try to run, do anything to hide.

But the problem isn't out there- the problem's inside.

Yeah. My poetry is kind of weird. Okay, very weird. But I write it all the time, little scraps of magic that float through my head. Anyway, I was at camp one day hanging out with a friend named Rachel. I kept staring at her; I couldn't stop thinking how beautiful she was. And how sweet and a fantastic rider, how pretty her hair was, how soft her lips must be…. I stopped myself suddenly and excused myself from her presence in her cabin. She seemed surprised by my abrupt departure and a little worried I was upset about something but I explained to her later that I had just gotten a stomach ache and needed to run to the bathroom. Actually, I had run out into the woods looking over one of the riding rings and sat by myself, thinking. I kept asking myself why I kept looking at her and couldn't get her off my mind, why I could think such things about her. I buried those feelings like always and pretended they didn't exist. But I still watched her and wanted to be near her constantly.

It wasn't until a few days after I got home from camp that I finally understood. It made so much sense, I was mad at myself for not realizing sooner. The relief that washed over me was overpowering and I cried for a little while in my room. I finally knew why. I wasn't hiding from myself anymore, I knew why I looked at girls and thought those things. I was so happy to at long last admit that I am gay. It seems so simple a concept that I shouldn't have been frightened, but I honestly thought something was wrong with me.

My friends were proud of me for telling them. It was difficult for them to accept at first and they were sort of squeamish for a little after I told them but they eventually came around and got used to it. Colleen had the hardest time with it, though I don't know why. Mel and Hayley accepted it without question but Grace and Colleen had a bit of a tough time accepting it at first. They sometimes told me to be quiet with an air of aggravation if I talked about a girl but now they're so used to it that they don't think twice when we're talking. I'm so grateful for them to have let it go and still love me.

I owe them my life and my happiness. They've kept me sane when all I wanted to do was blow everything up. They told me Max was disappointed when he found out which makes me feel kind of awesome but also a little sad. A really cool person liked me- but it's a boy. I honestly didn't believe anyone was capable of really liking me, never mind ever loving me. Any ideas of marriage and romance had died with my sanity in elementary school.

Then I met Lina. Ms. stunning Annalina Anderson. A friend gave me her number so I could ask her for advice about flirting with a mutual friend, Ms. Catherine. At first when I texted her she was nice but seemed kind of annoyed with my sudden questions and intrusion into her life. After a while we got to know each other pretty well and any thoughts of Catherine disappeared. We talked about books and movies for a while at first. She loved movies like I did and read the same kind of stuff I did- fantasy stories and paranormal romance novels. Basically, anything weird and different we could find. I was amazed that I had found somebody who enjoyed reading, never mind the exact same books as I. She was enchanting. Every time I mentioned a battle tactic or maneuver from one of my books she could speak with me about and the right course of action. Lina collected medieval weaponry like swords and daggers. When I saw them I knew she had my heart. Where would I find such an interesting person who understood me so well? Thankfully she had put away the skulls though because she collected those too (I'm not too much of an actual skull kind of person. Fake maybe, but real? Not so sure).

On Halloween my mother let me sleep over her house. After my piano lesson she drove me to her grandparents' where we passed out some candy to children with our friend Derek. A few other friends came by and we hung for a while until Derek left with them and we drove the short distance to Lina's house. I still remember the excitement bubbling in my blood as we drove, her hand lightly on my leg and her darling baby brother in the seat in front of me. He was so damn cute. Little Alex, the sweetheart. Lina laughed happily when he smiled at me and declared I was the first person he had smiled at outside the family. She told me it was a sign that I was meant to be there with her. We went upstairs and changed into pjs then flopped on her queen size bed to watch the movie Underworld with Kate Beckinsale. I'd never seen it before so she tried to explain it to me. In the first ten minutes she told me the whole plot and then apologized for possibly ruining it. I told her I didn't mind, I thought it sounded awesome. Not to mention I was so acutely aware of how close to me she was with her hot breath on my neck and short hair tickling my ear that I wasn't going to be paying much attention to the movie anyway. Silly goober planned this, I know it: she then told me because I knew what would happen, I didn't need to see it. Lina then got up and turned off the TV to leave the room in complete darkness. I couldn't see a damn thing but was relieved to feel her weight on the bed next to me. Somehow she found my lips with hers and kissed me. It was my first kiss and it was perfect. Granted it was pitch black, but it was perfect.

Obviously, we proceeded to make-out for hours. Who wouldn't with a beautiful girl ready to snuggle you all night? I didn't know what the hell I was doing and made a few extremely embarrassing blunders but she just giggled at me and told me to relax and trust myself. For example, when she stuck her tongue in my mouth the first time I was so surprised that… well, I bit her. Yes, I know, very funny. I was horrified and kept apologizing but she just laughed and told me it was cute. I'm still very embarrassed to admit it and she would probably still tell me it was cute. *shakes head* I don't get it, but I'll take her word for it.

The half moon outside this window reminds me of her eyes when we were sleepy and trying hard to stay awake. She begged me not to fall asleep for another hour or even a few minutes. It was freaking adorable. The fact that I had to work in my family's store on the orchard the next morning carting around 40 pound boxes of apples for hours didn't matter so much, she just didn't want me to stop kissing her. Honestly, I wished I could have said fuck work and kissed her until my lips bled. I never knew that I could feel so happy. Laying beside Lina that night, having her arms around me and her warm body against mine let me sleep comfortably and peacefully for the first time in a long time. When I was with Lina, the nightmares didn't come. My nightmares happened almost every night. Not when I slept over a friend's but pretty much every time I was by myself. That night I dreamed of nothing, just a warm soft place beside an angel. When it hit two in the morning she finally let me doze off with one last soft kiss. I've never been so happy. The only place I ever felt so loved was with some of my sisters from camp. The next morning was just as perfect. I awoke to a kiss from her and another long snuggle. Aha, I must admit that one last kiss behind the door where my mother stood waiting to get me was so hot that the whole ride home had me privately giggling to myself and wishing I could've just spent the day with her as well.

Then of course came that Monday in school when we confused the hell out of everyone when I kissed her before going to the band room. Hehe, that was so amusing to come back and cuddle while our friends just stood there gawking then congratulating us. I loved more then anything when Lina put her chin on my shoulder as we talked to everyone and held me around the waist. It was so sweet and loving I could've died on the spot. I was more comfortable with Lina then I had ever been with anyone. I was completely myself. I didn't have to hide or watch what I had to say, or pretend I was someone I wasn't. I could be completely and totally Ariadne Marie Severin and somehow, magically, she loved that. I was almost scared to believe that she could love me because I had never felt that anyone could. But laying beside her that night… No, I know that she loved me. I tried to deny it when everything fell apart and she was taken away. I tried to say she didn't love me so it was easier to pretend I didn't hurt so much. But it was a lie every time I thought it.

For a while I tried to tell myself I hated her after she was gone. I tried to tell myself I never wanted to see her again for ruining my life. But then I mentally slapped myself and admitted that I loved Lina more than anyone else in this world. I knew I could never hate her and that the misery we suffered I brought upon us, not her.

_I don't know how you can say you forgive me after all of that. After you were arrested and sent to jail… I don't know how you can say you love me after I screwed up so badly and hurt you so much. I wasn't there for you because my mother locked me away. Forgive me for not being there to protect you from your father. He had no right to ever lay a hand you, dear heart. Until the day I die I will hate him for hurting you. If I ever get the chance I will tell him about the despicable person he is and that he ought to be flogged mercilessly for hurting you. You are a beautiful, intelligent, stunningly good artist and hilarious person. He should have treasured you and I will someday make him pay for not doing so. Forgive the sudden outbreak of anger, I just hate the idea of you in pain… And part of that pain was my fault._

_Annalina, you were perfect. I was so happy I thought that it was too good to be true. I hate that I was right. When my mother came home and I heard her sobbing in the kitchen before she came to me I knew what had happened. I can always tell what she's thinking from the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice. Things have gotten better between us and we can enjoy ourselves together but I will never forgive her for what she's done. She believed she was protecting me, although I don't understand what from. She thinks you hurt me, but you made me so happy I cannot even begin to explain it. She was hurt as a child by a relative so I understand that she was horrified that had been done to me. No matter how many times I try to explain it to her she is steadfast in her terror. I have to accept it and wait, but it makes me want to tear my hair out and scream every other day._


	4. Chapter 4

I have so long to wait still. It's been two years but I have just over two years more. I still think of her all the time and miss her so badly I can't stand it sometimes. Writing in my journal helped a little when I used to do it. I haven't for a long time though. It's a journal I've written for her to have when we can be together again. If she'll even want me then, anyway. The ink is crimson, the color of blood. I use a scarlet feather so if ever discovered, at first glance no one will be the wiser.

I had never cut before the ordeal with Lina and my mother. I had held a kitchen knife to my throat before but never actually broken the skin. I have two small white scars on my left breast above my heart that show where I tried to impale myself once in elementary school. I had been doing the dishes and picked up the sharpest steak knife we had. I probably would have used it if my father hadn't pulled back in the driveway. After a while I couldn't feel very much and it was driving me crazy. I didn't want to be that mindless drone like before. I didn't want to hide away from the world in a haze of depression and misery. I told my mother I only used a can tab with a sharp edge to cut my arm after she figured out it wasn't just the kitten, but it was a lie. My father had given me a pocketknife to carry around and sometimes I used that, other times knives from the kitchen. Then I started smashing open razor-heads and using those small blades to do the damage. Skin is so easy to break when you can't feel it. After a while I was doing so much damage I had to work to hide it from my parents and friends. I eventually told my friends though. They knew anyway from the way I got dressed and acted when doing so.

Blood doesn't seem so important when you have a great deal. When I would start crying and shuddering so badly my teeth chattered and I couldn't stop I would pull out a blade to quiet myself. It worked better than anything else, taking my mind from the dark place and putting it to work concentrating on the right amount of pressure and perfect precision.

I knew it bothered my friends greatly but I never did it very badly. I only needed a small incision, barely a paper cut to release the stress and feel better. It never lasted long but it still helped a little. I eventually started to get hooked on it, cutting to stop the horrible urge to cry all the time. I almost enjoyed it, the small little pains that didn't hurt anyone but me. I could finally punish myself for the wrong I had done. I began to anticipate it, get anxious to do it. Somehow I managed to stop myself from doing it often and only when I really needed it. I guess I just didn't want to be scarred for whoever I would end up with, whether that would be Lina or someone else. I didn't want anyone else, but I didn't truly know what she would want in the end.

I haven't told my mother that I did it for a while (and thankfully have managed to stop with the incredible and loving support of my friends) and am very scared to do so. I don't know what her reaction will be but I can guess. She'll tell me she's sorry, interrogate me about it for a while about how I did it with what and why, hug me, then ship me off to a psych ward until they finally let me out. I will be taken from my friends, the only sanity I have besides my horse. I can't do that. I'd be more of a danger to myself away from them than with them. She'd do it anyway.

After all, I'm a dumb teenager who can't take care of herself and needs to be protected from every single goddamn thing in the entire freaking world. I'm too young to understand anything and should therefore be treated like a child, even though I should be given the responsibilities and expectations of a teenager. Question, does that make any fucking sense to anyone? Because I don't get it. I've been told I'm a smart girl and am capable of much more than I give myself credit, but then I ask for more to give more and I'm met with hard opposition and rock solid antagonism. What happens when a dog grows too big for its cage? In most people's eyes, you let it out to try the world and learn to live in it. My mother's eyes? Get a bigger cage.

I can't date until I'm sixteen. And even then she will not let me go back to Lina. I must wait until my eighteenth birthday has passed until I can go to her again. I tried to sort of "date" this girl named Cayla for a little while but she was way too messed up in the head and I felt such guilt anyway that it wasn't worth it. I wanted to get over Lina somehow, drown myself in another person to forget, but I know now that I can't. No matter what happens I'm still going to love and want her until the day she tells me she doesn't want me. I will never stop fighting for her or our life together until she tells me herself that she doesn't want me. If she tells me to leave, then I will. But only Lina can make me go.

How do you let go of someone even though you gave so much of yourself to them? How do you forget someone that made you so happy even though you gave them so much grief? I ask myself these questions constantly, trying to find a way out. My therapist tells me it's not my fault what happened to Lina and I. That we were both at fault and my mother should have handled it differently. Maybe I would be better if I had been allowed to say goodbye. Maybe I wouldn't feel so damn lonely if I could find even one gay person to talk to around here. There is no one who is gay where I live.


	5. Chapter 5

I moved to the next town over this past year. It was only a week or two before Christmas but my mother was tired of my father's verbal abuse and packed us up. The final straw that broke her back happened about two weeks before we left. I had an audition for a prestigious District Choir and my parents were driving me. We were supposed to make a day of it, possibly go see my wonderful gay uncles if they hadn't flown to Florida yet and go to a cool mall my mother talked about. On the way there I sat in the front by my dad to ward off any motion-sickness. My dad rolled down the window and started smoking. I asked him not to because it was hard for me to breathe and I needed my voice to be perfect for the audition. He said nothing but put it out and kept driving. Then he kept rolling down the window very far which made me rather cold and became silent and angry when I asked him to put it back up. He didn't say another word to me or mom the rest of the ride.

At the audition he waited in the car instead of inside with my mother and music teacher. Then on the way home, he snapped. We had driven maybe ten minutes before he started yelling and screaming at us. We had said literally nothing to him and he just began chewing into us, shouting that we were emotionally abusing him and no one should have to go through his pain and we were so mean to him and blah blah blah, mean stuff mean stuff. That was so backwards it was ridiculous. He started driving very erratically, swerving in and out of traffic at very high speeds then suddenly hitting the breaks and pulling over to sob on the side of the road. I was frightened, thinking we were going to get into an accident or die. Or both. He screamed at us for an hour and a half, the whole ride home. I started crying but didn't utter a sound, terrified he would round on me and possibly hurt me. I had never been afraid he would hit me except right then. I thought he was going to kill us with his crazy driving or just pull over and shoot us with his pistol he carries.

We got home and I flung myself from the car, running to the Salesroom where one of my best friends was working a last half hour. I went in and sat down in the corner until she was free. She was so good to me, just held me close as I cried into her hip for a while. Heather is my Superwoman, the person I go to whenever I need advice or love or just a big hug. She has saved me on more than one occasion from running away from home or cutting myself. I felt terrible for begging her once more to take me home with her seeing as how it was her birthday and I just came barging in crying but she told me that she didn't care and was glad to be there for me. Heather said if she was just going home instead of to a party she would have taken me but her friends were all waiting for her. She held me until it was closing time and then told me to call her anytime if I needed her. Heather is number one on my list of superheroes. The list has currently only three people on it. They are the people who have been my heroes when I needed one and picked me up off the ground no matter how far I had fallen. They never judged me, just loved me. Heather, Sammy and Sherrie are those beautiful people. I owe them more than they know.

My mother came to get me after Heather left and we both went to a friend's house for the rest of the evening until we had to return home. It was on the drive to Colleen's that she told me she was done dealing with his horrible tantrums every freaking month. She told me she was going to leave him and we would move away but not until I graduated. A few days later she said she couldn't hold out that long and she couldn't wait to leave. It scared me to leave home and the orchard, I had never lived anywhere else, but I knew that she had to do it. My mother had never been truly happy with my father and it was inevitable that they would separate. Still, I was frightened. I'm so goddamn tired of being frightened.

The day before we left my dad picked me up from school like always, but he was being very nice. Trying to make up for what he did on my audition day. He kept talking about taking mom bowling and having a nice evening with just the two of them. Then he mentioned the tree. It was always a big and wonderful tradition with my family to go pick out our Christmas tree from across the street in a huge line of pines we had separating two fields of trees and decorate it together. Knowing that we were moving out the next day and having him talk about that beautiful tradition I loved more than anything devastated me. After we got home I went upstairs to my room and collapsed on the floor sobbing. Why did he have to be so nice after we were going? When I knew we were going to leave him? It was too much.

He came upstairs the next day while I was packing my things and asked me what I was doing. I was putting all of my essential books (only about half of my personal library but they still took up an enormous box by themselves) in an apple box. He asked me if I was packing but I couldn't bear to look at him. I told him that he should go talk to mom and he started crying. He stumbled down the stairs and I could hear him calling for my mother through the old house. I could hear him screaming and wailing in misery at hearing that we were leaving. Of all the times I've heard and seen my father cry and be utterly miserable that was the worst. He freaked out for a while then came upstairs and hugged me, apologizing over and over for ruining that day. I told him it was okay and I loved him but he just kept sobbing into my shoulder. He left as we loaded up our minivan, the orchard van and a friend's truck with all of our stuff and furniture. I brought my bed and dresser plus a shit ton of clothes.

Mom and I had previewed the apartment only once before signing the lease agreement. My landlady obviously wanted the income sooner than later plus we needed to move in soon. We finally loaded all of our stuff in and I sat on my bed in the bare room with boxes all over the small floor. It felt so cold and unwelcome, so uninviting and foreign. My best friend (who was now also my neighbor) came over with another friend to keep me company as I frantically tried to make it feel a little less hostile. I filled the lower bookshelf (which ran along one full wall) with the lovelies I had brought and some movies I had grabbed. I put my porcelain dolls up and my V For Vendetta doll but it still was uncomfortable. One of the shades looked funny so I pulled the string to fix it but it fell down making a terrible racket and hitting me in the head. I started crying and just sat curled into a ball on my perfectly made bed in the perfectly horrible place that wasn't my home. The worst part about this new place was the noise level. I am not allowed to blast my music or even sing above the normal tone of talking here.

I hate it. I'm going insane without being able to sing. My coping mechanism for anything and everything, not to mention my favorite pastime and activity, wasn't allowed anymore. I sing at the top of my lungs all the time, whenever I get a chance to be alone in my room. Now I can't sing above a fucking speaking voice or turn up the music past that either. I'm going insane.

I need to yell angry music when I'm furious, I need to open my lungs and sing opera when I'm imagining I'm in an awesome musical or production of Phantom of the Opera. I need to sing unrestrained and for hours or my mental state goes down the toilet. As you can probably guess, I'm not doing so well without it. I've told my mother how unhappy I am but I know there's no going back. She's much happier here even if I'm not. I'm trying very hard to stay optimistic and not let it get to me but it's so hard to not sing. It's the only thing I'm good at besides writing essays. Music is my blood. "The life has been siphoned right out of my veins." –Hinder.

You probably think I'm overreacting, but I feel like I'm dying. I can't stand it. I want to come home and sing my heart out and feel good at something for once in my life, feel like I can do something well but I can't. My voice has suffered because of this enormous setback. Singing in chorus has been harder where before it was effortless and well done. I hate this.

It's three thirty in the morning and I'm still writing. I should go to bed but I can't seem to stop. Everything that's been hurting me or bothering me or just plain fucking horrible just keeps poring out of my fingertips and across this keyboard. My mother will probably wake soon and yell at me to go to bed but I don't really care right now. I feel like I'm going to be sick because I'm lactose intolerant and had ice cream earlier without a pill. Yet my thoughts return to Lina, as they usually do before I lay down for bed. I look outside and see a beautiful white moon and her face in it. I love the stars more than anything and hope when I die I become one so I may watch over this world and possibly guide all those who believe in them as I do. I imagine I am the stars and she is the moon and we float together in the celestial space, never worrying or hurting, just drifting together in the swift melodies of the Star Dance. That reference may be found in the Wayfarer Redemption by Sara Douglass (wicked good, I suggest you read it).

My favorite book of all time is Green Angel by Alice Hoffman. I read it when I was only in second grade and to this day it is still my favorite. Alice Hoffman is the best author I have found as of yet and have a feeling I will ever find. That small book made such an impact on me and my life; it is entwined about my heart like an overgrown rose bush, with thorns and beauty mingling as one. If it is the last story you read on this earth, please make sure you do. I like to think of myself as the main character, Green. The Angel of Gardens, the Witch that may give you your heart's desire. We are one in the same, and I love her very much. This is slightly ironic, because I hate myself. Anyway, I intend to have Green Angel and Green Witch (its masterful sequel) written as they are on the covers of the books across the inside of my arms as tattoos when I'm older. Sometimes I write it in marker or pen just to make myself smile and feel a bit of comfort in knowing Green is inside me and understands everything about me.


	6. Chapter 6

My mother had a bad argument with my brother yesterday. Ever since we moved he's been very mean to her and horribly rude. I understand he's hurt that we left but my main concern for him is being alone in the house with dad. Dad must be ten times worse and miserable than usual, and I couldn't stand the usual. How to deal with such anguish of someone you care for all on your own? He doesn't understand why we left; he thinks we're being selfish. It is selfish to take care of yourself and remove yourself of a situation that hurts you on a daily basis? Then again, Tyler wasn't around when dad got really bad. He's been away to college for the past few years and hasn't seen his latest tantrums or meltdowns. My father is an overgrown six year old, and I fear my brother may become one as well.

Tyler used to be a good kid. Actually, he was the prize of the family. Everyone loved him. More than me, actually. It wasn't hard; he always got perfect grades, never did anything he wasn't supposed to, never got in trouble even if he did. I was always the bad kid. I was the bad little girl who had to sit back and listen to everyone praise him constantly, like he was some fucking angel having fallen to earth. They adored him. They never spoke to me with such respect or adoration. In fact, half the time I didn't feel welcome around our relatives because they thought I was too young to understand the more "complex" matters of life. I've been reading at a college level since I was in fourth grade. Now who doesn't understand complex matters?

But I still missed him. He was never home but always with his friends. He practically lived with his best friend and even when he was home didn't want anything to do with me. Who would? According to him, I'm a dumb little girl who can't think for herself and worships his every step. Ha. Right.

Then he went off to college and the house was much emptier. I didn't mind it so much, I was used to him never being around. Then one day I was in my kitchen in pjs eating ice cream when he walked in with a very pretty girl attached to his arm. He introduced her as Jenn Churchey, his new girlfriend. This completely took me by surprise but I was delighted to meet her. She was very sweet and in the weeks following I grew close to her, enjoying her company and missing her more than my brother. That seemed to bother him a little but I didn't care. If he didn't miss me then why should I miss him? Eventually though things grew very tense and then impossible between the two and my brother had to break up with her. It was horrifying for him, I really think he loved her. She was the one for him, but she wanted to start her life too early. He was still in college and couldn't afford to raise a family so soon. She pushed him to quit school and live completely with her but it was too much. She had been smoking pot a lot lately and it bothered him. He said all of her ambition was gone and she had no goals or integrity left.

I felt bad for him. He found someone he was positively in love with, but she didn't love him enough to wait until he left college. But Tyler grew strange and not himself after his departure from Jenn. His already tumultuous mood changed somehow more rapidly and he was so quick to anger that I took to avoiding him when he was home. Tyler had never been especially nice to me except when I was a child or it was a holiday, but now he was downright mean. One Christmas eve he asked me to go last minute shopping with him and we had a wonderful time walking around the mall and hanging out. When we got home things were still perfect until I saw a commercial for a new movie with actor Christian Bale. I exclaimed that I was excited for the movie because he was one of my favorite actors but Tyler suddenly glared at me and remarked that I only liked him because HE did. Um, excuse me? Where the hell does it say that I'm supposed to have no mind of my own and worship the very ground my brother walks on? I told him this was why he was a jackass and left the room. My mother was furious at him for ruining the beautiful Christmas and family time by hurting me.

He always did stuff like that. Put me down. He would ask me if I had heard of a band or seen a movie and if I didn't he would shake his head and tell me I was a poor deprived child. I usually told him that he was a self-centered jackrabbit. It was like he thought I had absolutely no brain. I have to ask, do I really seem that stupid? Do I honestly so closely resemble a fool? I was angry at him for the rest of the night but managed to let it go to have a good Christmas morning with my family.

Eventually Tyler became exactly what he had scorned- a druggie, a partier and a drinker. His grades suffered horribly one year and he couldn't make up the credits. It was supposed to be his senior year this year but with all the fooling around he had done he would have gone another year. So instead, he quit school. And now he's dating a girl five years younger (that doesn't bother me but it does our mom) and she's a girl who once went to my school and told me on a daily basis she wanted to fuck me (that part does). Yuck. She's a nice girl but she has a lot of emotional problems that I was horrified to be sucked into when she would call me up telling me she wanted to commit suicide. That was too much for me. When I had first heard they were hanging out I warned him about her, that she could be trouble even if she was sweet. He remarked (haughtily) that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. Yeah. Okay Tyler. Whatever you say.

A while ago he had the worst of his jackassness come out. Yes, that is a word: jackassness. I may be a future English major, but when I'm writing for myself I make up all the goddamn words I want to. Anyway, I was having a concert one night and relaxing on the couch before we had to leave when I overheard my mother and brother talking in the kitchen. She was asking him to hang with me because her and dad were going to be at a party (I don't remember what the occasion was, probably a holiday) and he said he would if she bought him beer. Alcohol bothers me a little and can worry me sometimes. I've seen a lot of people get hurt by it and it's never been something I've desired to put in my body if it makes you sick and feel like shit the next morning. I used to have a friend whose parents fought constantly. Her parents both drank like fish and when I would go over her house I would hide under her bed crying as they screamed about how they were going to kill each other. Alcohol can muddle someone's brain and allow them to do things they normally wouldn't, like drive recklessly and hurt themselves or someone else. I've seen people become very rude and lewd when they drink. Alcohol just bothers me. I yelled so they could hear me in the other room that I wasn't going to hang with him if he was going to drink. He freaked out and we yelled at each other a little. Mom was behind on getting ready so Tyler had to bring me to the concert. Big mistake.

We had barely gotten out of the driveway before he started shouting at me and making me feel like shit. He told me I was being very mean to him and that there was nothing wrong with drinking. I told him I didn't like alcohol and that I didn't want him to drink around me. For some reason, that was committing a felony. He screamed at me the whole way there. He would take a breath in between attacks and I would ask him if we could stop talking about it but he wouldn't let up. I got to the concert and flung myself into the school and away from him. I walked into the band room full of people and immediately put my things down, fighting angry tears. Niki saw my face and pulled me into the cafeteria and away from people so I could cry. She was one of the girls who felt the need to grab my ass every other day but she could be kind if I needed her to be. Niki just hugged me and let me cry until I was ready to go back and face people. If she hadn't helped me, I would've probably been unable to handle the amount of people pressed closely around me. When I'm upset I don't like people to touch me. And I was plenty angry.

After the concert my mother said we should go out to eat wherever I wanted (fuck yeah!) so we went to northeast in west Brookfield. Tyler had smiled at me when I had come out and said pleasantly that I had done a very good job. I said nothing but glared at him. Stupid jackass…. Anyway, I was angry and quiet the whole time. Mom kept asking me if I was okay but I said nothing was amiss. When we got home Tyler had to go to a friend's house so he left right away. The moment he did I turned to my mother and started bawling my eyes out. I told her how cruel he had been to me in the car and I was unable to get away from him. It was just like being with dad when he was angry. There was nowhere to hide. She was furious and held me close until I got a handle on myself. Then the next time Tyler came home I told him he was an asshole for making me feel like shit simply because I don't want him to drink around me. We had an angry argument (my mother there to keep him from tearing me to pieces again) and agreed that he wouldn't drink around me and I wouldn't be so rude when telling him not to. _Stupid idiot. Right, I'm the rude one. Makes total sense._

Now he's an angel fallen and a victim to this horrible society. Tell me, who is the child in need of guidance? Me or the boy who drugs and parties his life away and treats those who love him like dirt?


	7. Chapter 7

I made an oopsie today. I had midterms so that meant a half day of school. I came home, happy to be hanging with the girls later for movies and junk food. I made chicken nuggets and turned on my music. I thought I had it low enough not to bother them. I was wrong. My mother called and told me that my landlady had called her again and that not only was I too loud today, but I was yesterday but she hadn't said anything. Mom was mad at me but didn't yell (surprisingly). But I lost it. _I can't do this anymore. I can't live somewhere and not sing or listen to my music. Goddamnit, this is who I am. I'm suppressing my personality. I can't do this. It's my only coping mechanism. And now it's gone. I'm going crazy._ I started crying so hard I couldn't breathe. I ran into my room and pulled out the razor. I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop myself. It hurt too badly, I needed some sort of comfort and my friends weren't here yet. The marks are only two and are small, but deep. The sight of the blood calmed me a little and it felt better to write in my diary again. I wrote very little, I didn't need a lot of blood to relax. Then my friends arrived and the pain vanished. I had a fantastic night with them last night playing D&D and Super Smash Brothers on the GameCube at Tristan's house. I wondered why I couldn't laugh like this and be happy like this all the time. It felt so perfect. I love my friends; they really do keep me sane.

_Just a simple little cut. It's not that bad… I've done worse before anyway. Cutting isn't really an issue until you start to badly hurt yourself. If you do what I have done… Then it's nothing. But very few people see it like that. I feel bad for having scars that my friends see when I change, I know it bothers them. But it's so hard not to. I don't know what else to do sometimes. I've been able to stop myself for a long time (only by the love and care of my friends) so I thought that maybe I didn't need it anymore. When I cry sometimes, I feel that horrible terrible pain that eats into me, all I want to do is cut. I don't (usually) but it was too much. One small pain can appease another for a time. I'm so mad I wasn't strong enough not to. Maybe I will be next time. All I know is that the pain is gone for now, and I can breathe a little easier._


	8. Chapter 8

I hate biology. This is something very important: I am not a science or math person. I am a future English teacher, not a bio addict like my friend Mel. Give me a thousand-page book on any subject and I will have it fully read and a five page essay finished in 5-6 days. I'm very good at what I do. It's the science of the world and obnoxious mathematical equations I will never use again in my life that I have a hard time with. I'm missing a lot of my biology homework this semester and my mother is livid. She left me a note this morning with a list of the work saying that if I don't get it done she'll take away all my movies and friends for next semester. She's very serious about the movies, but she's bluffing on my friends. She knows better than to take my girls away. They are the only way I can keep from screaming at the top of my lungs every five minutes. And if she dares to tell me that she won't let me see them, I will explain to her what my next coping mechanism is. She won't like it. I have a feeling she'll ship me off to that psych ward. But if she tries to take them from me, then I will make a point of hurting myself. I cannot survive without them. This may make me a fucking crazy little fucktard, but I don't care anymore. I will get the stupid work done, but she is NOT taking my girls away. She's taken me from my home, my father and brother, my animals, my lover. No more. I'm done.


	9. Chapter 9

It was my father's birthday today. He was fifty three. I couldn't believe it. Mom bought him a cheesecake and some new shirts and pants (he stains all his clothes with grease) and I gave them to him. He's getting angry now, though. He wants to speak to my mother about our coming back, but she's loath to. She doesn't want to tell him yet that we're not. Who would? Who wants to see that pain from someone they love, even if they cannot subject themselves anymore? Dad picked me up from school and we went to a nice Chinese restaurant he loves because I had a half-day of school for midterms. By the way, not finishing an AP essay because your teacher doesn't give you enough time sucks. Not even kidding. Anyway, we had a great time munching with my brother and uncle then went home and had a decent time as he opened presents. It was really nice to be around him and not be scared he was going to cry or suddenly get really sad. Actually, he was rather irritated when he mentioned mom. I know he really wanted her to be there with us. After that uncle left and me and Tyler went into my grandparents' house (empty, they are in Florida for the winter) and I watched him play an awesome videogame called Skyrim. I love watching him play them, his commentaries are so freaking hilarious. Plus now I'm able to hold my tongue and simply enjoy his company whereas as a child I was too excitable and drove him nuts. All of a sudden I heard my mother voice calling my name from the other room but refused to move. I was warm and comfortable and didn't want to leave my brother. Tyler was being very nice, no way in hell was I gonna leave while he was being an actual person. Ty left the room and I could hear him and mom talking, just their voices low and soft so I wouldn't hear their words. I didn't. I just enjoyed the sound of their voices_. I so miss Tyler. It aches in my heart to never see him, and when I do only on rare and usually sad occasions. He was always a little peeved by my constant chatter and tendencies to follow him around like a little lost puppy but was never intentionally cruel to me. Okay, sometimes he was. But I honestly could care less if I could just be near him once in a while, talk to him like we are equals. I so wish he would treat me as his equal, not his dumb little sister who knows nothing but what she is told._

Suddenly, mom called out for me to come and grab my things, we were leaving. I could hear the tears in her throat before I saw them and quickly did as she asked. I grabbed my things but realized my bladder was ready to explode and slipped into the bathroom quickly. Mom was out in the car. Dad called through the door for Tyler but paused when I said it was me. He asked what happened and I said I didn't know. He told me to stay and wait a moment longer and left, not listening to my insistent farewells. Not that he ever did listen when I tried to persuade him of anything. When he got something into his head, it was his way or the highway. I chose the highway. I ran outside after my business was done and jumped in the car. Mom told me of her argument with Tyler that had hurt her so and caused our immediate (and rather abrupt) departure. It made me sad to see her so upset that Tyler was being an ass to her.

She does her best to take care of us, even though it's not always what we need. Sometimes she's right, but other times she can't accept when we actually know what's best for ourselves. It's why Tyler was so happy to leave for college: she tries to protect us but ends up smothering instead. She doesn't know any other way to be.

When I got home I was silent and sad. The argument between my brother and mother bothered me, as it always does, but the real reason I was miserable was music. I hadn't brought my barn clothes in the car this morning so my mom let me stay in it to keep warm and not smell like a big adorable stinky animal. I turned up the volume and let the song burst forth from my throat, feeling my lungs take in that precious air only to be expelled on high, perfect notes. I am a first soprano, and I used to be a damn good one. I was recognized well only once for my writing (I can write any sort of essay you want) but my real talent is singing. Without countless hours to sing unrestrained every day, my voice has suffered. The only times I sing now are in the car when I'm not too miserable or talking to mom or in chorus. My voice that progressed so far and become wonderful has now broken. After only two songs I lifted my voice to the far reaches of the musical spectrum but felt nothing come out. I clasped my hands around my neck, horrified. I tried over and over to sing those notes that in the past months had become only too easy but could not. Depression settled over me like a heavy cloak and I fell into silence. Tears welled in my eyes but I fought hard to keep them there. The only thing I've ever been good at, and it's nothing now. I could not sing well the rest of the time I was in the car before mom came back out.

_What can I do? I cannot sing in this apartment, it only serves to upset my landlady and anger my mother. The hours I used to spend singing and honing my voice, relinquishing all grasp on reality to live once more in a world where I am the victim of no one's hate or disgust, where I am the one they all love and admire…. wasted. I am nothing now. I have never been anything, and never will be. If I cannot return my voice, then I am wasted effort. No wonder Tyler never treated me as an equal. I have always been inferior to everyone around except those who hurt others for the sake of sadism. I can write essays and ride horses. The angelic voice I used to have, that brought tears to the eyes of the people I sang for one night at school- it's gone. Yes, I'm a drama queen. Yes, I over exaggerate. Yes, I am fool and worthless. Trust me, I know. I have always known. Even my mother has told me: "You're no prize yourself, Ariadne."_

When we got home I hid myself in my room with a bag of M&Ms and my current read, The Dove Keepers by Alice Hoffman. It's beautiful so far, and sad beyond imagining. This woman can write the unexplainable, she can understand that pain no one can describe. After reading for some time, I winced in pain and was shocked to look down and see my breast red and abused, my switchblade in hand. I had been slowly sawing at my skin, enjoying the small pains until the smallest bit of blood showed through. A very small graze, barely anything. But crimson all the same.

_Is it wrong that I was happy to see the liquid welling up from under my skin? Is it wrong that I contemplated carving Green Angel into my skin on my left arm where I wrote it in green pen today? Bleeding is not so horrific as people say. We are only flesh and blood and bones. What does it matter if flesh is scarred, blood is lost and bones are bruised? _When I opened my fortune cookie and read the small paper inside today after lunch I laughed aloud but, not in amusement, in sad simple contradiction.

"You are the master of every situation."

I told my brother that I didn't know it was possible for fortunes to lie. He said that in fact I was, I had only to make the best of my situations. I replied quietly that I had very little control in my life. That which I wish for most of all I may never see again, and a dream I dare to dream may never become my reality. He didn't dispute my words. I have never controlled my life. The few times I have, my mother has ruined it somehow by "protecting" me. I am nothing but a slave to Life's trickeries and devious illusions. I will never be in control until I leave and become who I truly am. For now, I am simply an animal in cage. Let out once in a while to see the sun, then shoved back in to await the day when the bars that cut like blades vanish.

If that day ever dares to come.


	10. Chapter 10

January 15, 2012- sometime far away

I know this song from a long time ago that visits my mind when I am feeling particularly lonely or sad. I had no idea what it's called or who it's by until a few days ago. It's on a CD my brother made me years ago, but I know it perfectly.

I could tell from the minute I woke up, it was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely day.

Rise and shine, rub the sleep out of my eyes and try to tell myself I can't go back to bed.

It's gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely day.

Even though the sun is shining down on me and I should feel about as happy as can be

I just got here and I already want to leave.

It's gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely day.

Everybody knows that something's wrong.

But nobody knows what's going on.

They all sing that same old song.

When you want it all to go away…

It's shaping up to be a lonely day.

- Phantom Planet's Lonely Day

Yeah. It's very pretty, I love it. And the one I remember and try to listen to when I'm cutting? The Johny Cash version of Hurt. His deep voice and absolute devotion to his lyrics make me cry almost every time I hear it. His words explain my pain well. The guitar's somber notes fit perfectly with the mood and I find myself tirelessly loyal to this song.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a whole

The old familiar stain

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

What have I become, my sweetest friend?

Everyone I know goes away in the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

What have I become, my sweetest friend?

Everyone I know goes away in the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find… a way

Speaking of thorns…. I kind of collect them. I love them. I'm already pretty fucked up, so this shouldn't surprise you too much. Roses are the world's most beautiful flower, but they come with thorns. _Beauty and pain, mingling as one. It seems everything is made that way._ My English teacher had us create these circles called mandalas a short time ago and I made mine very specifically about what I find to be beautiful in life. The border was a simple Celtic knot colored grey, grey/blue and a lighter blue. The inside had a white rose with a green center with vines reaching off of it to hit the edge of the border. I glued some of my thorns to the vines of the rose. My teacher was little put off at first, surprised I had put such things on. And that I had a small bag full of them. Yet she accepted it without question and simply put it on top of the others so as not to pull my sharp darlings off. Green sowed thorns into her clothing in her time of mourning in Green Angel. I do not sow them into anything, I simply collect them and admire their perfect tips that can pierce flesh with ease. I await the perfect use for them to present itself, but when it does, I will be ready.

Sorry I sound like such a creeper. Then again, I sound exactly like who I am. I can be no one and nothing but me, a strange and weird little girl who has no worth.


	11. Chapter 11

I'm scared. Remember that girl I mentioned that I sort of dated for a short time? Well, she's nuts. Like literally insane. Like batshit crazy. It's kind of freaking me out.

When we were doing our sort of dating, she was a little strange. Granted I'm not exactly a normal person myself, but she was…. Weird. We had been hanging out maybe two weeks when I read an article she wrote on a blog type thing that had us as fiancés and talking about kids and all that stuff. I was like…. erm….. ooookay. Then after a few weeks had passed and we made out in my kitchen the next day she texted me saying she shouldn't have done tat and didn't want to again until my birthday and she wasn't happy and yeah. So I apologized and said that we would wait however long she needed. Next time we hung out, same deal. Having a good time then "oh we shouldn't have done that, I want to wait again". *cough* excuse me? Would you like to pick one?

She told me about her pasat and how she had been abused. I felt horrible for her, I couldn't and still can't imagine being physically abused. She told me she had tried to commit suicide a few times and showed me the rows of scars on her wrists. It was so sad. I knew that kind of pain. It's not something you get over quickly. You have one foot in the afterlife and the other in this world. It's only too easy to fall off this earth if you're not careful.

Then she started texting me that she hurt herself again and again. Then instead, it was "I'm sorry, I tried to kill myself last night. I swallowed a huge ass bottle of pills." I cried in terror that she would take her life and spoke to my friends for guidance. They told me it wasn't healthy to be around her and I should leave. If she was someone I loved, I would have never left her side. But a sort of girlfriend who I simply enjoy passing time with? (yeah I'm a bitch) then no freaking way. I have too much on my plate already. Completely shaken, I agreed with them.

I had been trying to think of some way to "break up" with her without being a bitch when she did it for me. Christmas Eve she texted me. I had told her about the journal of blood so she knew I had cut before. As I had when I first moved_. My music was taken and I was no longer home. I hope I'm not incorrect by saying anyone would snap…_ Anyway, she told me that if I didn't stop (which I had) and use my support system (which I did) then she couldn't be with me. She said she couldn't handle my depression on top of hers. Holy shit, did I miss something? Did we suddenly switch roles or some crazy shit 'cause that was exactly what I had said to my friends. So I told her fine, that she needed to focus on getting better. I was relieved to not be the bad guy and have her out of my hair, but it still sucked that she did it on Christmas Eve. 

A few days later she called me nonstop. Colleen and Grace were over, we were going to walk to a local restaurant for lunch with our Christmas money. I ignored her (all six times) and her message. Apparently my Christmas present had come in and she still wanted to give it to me. She texted me saying she was on her way and I told her not to come to my house, I wasn't home and neither was my mom. The three of us left the house when she pulled up beside my driveway. Cayla got out with a red bag and smiled at me like nothing had ever happened. I refused to take it. Grace did instead- then stuffed it in a mailbox as we walked away. I love my friends. I was trying not to let that stupid bitch ruin my day when I heard a thumping on the ground. I turned to her running towards me crying that she wasn't leaving without a hug. She tackled me and held on tightly. It was all I could do not to pull out my switchblade and tell her to get off of me before I shredded her. I hate it when people touch me when I'm upset with them or don't know them. I get very violent and frightened when they do. My anxiety skyrockets when I'm in a crowded place and I shake like a leaf. I've been getting better because when I'm around my friends then I feel safe but sometimes I still get tweaked out. She finally let go and left. Thank the stars my girls were there to chase away the emotional mush that had replaced my perfect mood and I was laughing and smiling with them in little time. We were almost to the restaurant when she returned. It was like she had followed us from my house. *twitch*

She parked her car in front of us and ran to me, freaking out. She told me I had to tell my mother about my cutting (which I hadn't done in weeks) or she would. My blood ran cold. I knew she was serious, I could see it in her eyes. She sobbed that she was scared I would kill myself, that it was only the slip of a blade. I was baffled. I had never told her I wanted to die. Far from it! Life sucked and I was sad, but goddamnit, I'm fucking allowed to be sad. My parents are split, my brother barely speaks to me, my music is no longer allowed, my lover has been taken and I no longer live in my home. Who the hell wouldn't be freaking sad?

I lost my temper and shouted that she was crazy and I was happy to live even if I was miserable half the time. I haven't wanted to die for four years and I didn't want to now. Still don't, goddamnit!

But I was still scared. She knew where I kept my journal and I was terrified my mother would believe her and find it. That would be the end of me. I couldn't let that happen. She made me promise that I would tell my therapist at my appointment that night. She finally left but my sanity had left me. My girls hugged me and let me cry into them. I was so grateful they had been there, I probably would have hurt Cayla otherwise. I don't get angry enough to hurt people easily. I've only come close to losing control maybe three times in my life. I have an incredible amount of self restraint when it comes to harming others. _If I didn't, every SOB who had ever hurt my so many years ago would either be dead or in a coma._

I spoke to my therapist that night about Cayla, but never mentioned my cutting. I told her about how she had followed me with my friends and forced a hug when I obviously wanted her hundreds of miles away. I told her how she tried to commit suicide every other night and how it had been scaring me. She told me that I needed to shut her out completely, never speak to her again because she could cause me a lot of trouble (no shit, Sherlock). She said that she could spread gossip and lies about me, possibly harass me and stalk me like she had that day. I was fucking horrified. I texted Cayla that night saying that my therapist had told me for my mental health I shouldn't ever talk to her again. I told her to never call or text me again, never come to my house again or make any attempt to speak to my mother or friends. She replied "oh so now I'm the bad guy? The one trying to get you help. Go figure." I said nothing. _Get me help? For what? I may be really screwed up but I am nowhere near the depths of hell that would cause me to refuse life. _The next morning she texted me and said she loved me. I didn't answer._ Stupid bitch. You have no idea how to love someone._ She's tried to call me a few times since that day but I've ignored her each time. I blocker her on facebook and I haven't seen her in person whatsoever.

One time she called and left a message that said that I could hate her all I wanted, but to leave her coworker out of it. She claimed I had glared at her coworker (who honestly is very sweet, I actually really like that lady). As before, I gave no answer. I hadn't even seen her coworker since our "break up" and would never consciously do anything but be polite and friendly to her.

I'm frightened. I have forgotten my switchblade at Tristan's Saturday when we played D&D and it's making me nervous as hell. I have kept my knife close by ever since she followed me and now I feel oddly naked without it. It adds a comfort to me that I feel weak without. The familiar weight of it in my hand lets me breathe easier. Hopefully I will get it back before the week is out. My front door is always locked in case Cayla ever tries to come back here. I'm so frightened she will. Though now after everything that's happened, my mother will never believe her if she tries to say I still cut. At least I know that my secret is safe. Who's going to believe a girl who tries to kill herself every week, who's been in the psych ward for just that and stalks people?

Still, I'm tweaked. I want my knife and I want her to go away forever. What am I going to do if she finds me walking by myself in town one day? Pull out my illegal switchblade (not 18 yet, I'm not legal to carry it. Oops) and run for the police station? If anything I'll book it to my house or Max's and hide until she leaves. But if I'm too far away for a mad dash… What then? Where do I run? Some stranger's house? I'm so tweaked out it's ridiculous. This stress and fright eats into my body, I can feel my heart beat faster. It's so profound my chest aches.

I'll hide in The Dovekeepers for now. Maybe the desert can waste away my fears if nothing else.


	12. Chapter 12

I knew from the look on her face. I took a few hesitant steps forward.

"Lina? Darling?" the words were so quiet I feared she hadn't heard. Lina just stood there, staring at me. I felt myself reaching for her but I didn't seem to get any closer. My legs refused to move. I struggled to touch her, even just barely brush her skin. Lina did nothing. Her face was impassive, unmoving. I saw no love in her eyes.

"Lina, I can't reach you. Lina, please come to me." She still didn't move. I grew frantic until my legs released and I staggered forward. My hand rested on her arm for barely a second and then it was gone. She was gone. I screamed and ran about, begging everyone around me to tell me where she went. They simply passed by like I didn't exist. Where had she gone? Why disappear? I couldn't find her and finally felt to my knees, sobbing. Lina, oh Lina, please come back. I can't do this without you. Please, mi amor. I love you.

I awoke crying last night and my mother knocking on my door.

"Are you okay Ari? Sweet pea, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry I woke you."

"It's alright honey. Can I come in?" I looked down at my naked body, the scars and cuts.

"I'm okay mom, just a nightmare. I'm fine. I'm gonna try and go back to sleep."

"Okay… Do you need a hug?" I smiled. Same old mommy.

"Nah, I'm alright. Love you mom."

"I love you too, darling." I heard her walk back into her room and get back into bed. I rolled away from the door and gripped my teddybear tightly. _I miss her so much…. I hate these nightmares. Every fucking night. Will I ever have a respite? Am I doomed to cry every night until I have her again? Stars, will this pain ever end? I hope that she will still want me, or that I'll have the strength to survive if she does not. Ugh, my head hurts. I hate crying._

You can obviously see I had another nightmare. They happen pretty much every night. They only go away when I'm sleeping beside a friend or at camp. Even then they sometimes happen. I try not to think about her during the day but there's nothing I can do about my sleep. I'm worried that I talk too much in my sleep about her. I know that I talk a lot (and even sing, according to Grace) but I don't want my mother to hear it. We never talk about her, it hurts us both too much and only ends in a fight and misery for days. Every time I pass the mural she painted of Edgar Allen Poe for my English teacher last year I can't help but smile sadly. She had a wonderful artistic touch. She painted me a picture, with us as dragons encircling each other and our favorite flowers beneath them. I saw it once on a friend's phone. She wasn't paying attention and I was scrolling through her pictures. It was beautiful. I was told she got a tattoo of a daffodil, my favorite flower, on her arm. I was angry at first, but I'm not sure why. I think I was scared that when we were finally together she would regret it if things didn't work. Then I realized what she meant by it, the love she felt. After all, we have carved each other's names into our skin. I don't think I could ever truly be angry with her. Hurt, but not angry.

It hurt me to learn that she had fooled around with one of our friends, the one who had introduced us. Of all people, it had to be her. Who, apparently, was straight. But I knew I had no right to be upset. I had tried to drown myself in other people, do anything to forget as well. I've kissed a few girls but I hated myself for it. I made myself sick- to the point of self hatred and mutilation. I didn't know what else to do. She was always there in my head, always in my thoughts. I felt myself being dragged down by the pain of it. I couldn't feel anything anymore. I was so numb. She was taken from her home and sent to jail. She was slandered in a courtroom by my mother. She was hurt by her father because of this. And it's my fault. It's always been my fault. My therapist says it wasn't, but she's supposed to lie to make me feel better. I don't believe anyone about that stuff for reasons previously stated. She should hate me, but she doesn't. I almost wish she would. It would make it easier for me to hate myself. I'm a horrible person. "You deserve much better than me." –Hinder

Time has passed, and the anguish has eased. Now I can relatively easily hide when I'm upset from people. Sometimes I choose not to because I want everyone to know that my mood is sour. My mother doesn't like that I don't tell her most of the time but if I did, she'd throw me in the funnyhouse. How do you fix that? How do you fix that which has been broken so utterly? Too many questions, not a single answer. _And people wonder why I need to hide away from the world once in a while._ Oh well. I'll just wait here (impatiently) until it's over. All two fucking years of it. Maybe she'll live with me in my castle after all.


	13. Chapter 13

I know a song from Glee that made my heart cry when I heard it. It's called Get It Right. It says everything.

What have I done?

Wish I could run

Away from this ship going under

Just trying to help

Hurt everyone else

Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders

What can you do when your good isn't good enough

And all that you touch tumbles down?

'cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things

I just want to fix it somehow

But how many times will it take

Oh how many times will it take for me

To get it right?

To get it right?

Can I start again?

With my faith shaken

'cause I can't go back and undo this

I just have to stay

And face my mistakes

But if I get stronger and wiser

I'll get through this

What can you do when your good isn't good enough

And all that you touch tumbles down?

Oh my best intentions keep making a mess of things

I just want to fix it somehow

But how many times will it take?

Oh how many times will it take for me

To get it right?

To get it right?


	14. Chapter 14

We got the results for the play the other day. It was hard to feel anything but disappointment. I had gotten a lead, but considering there're about sixteen, it doesn't mean much. It has little importance.

I shouldn't have felt so bad for myself, I shouldn't have been so affected by such a trivial thing, but I was. It hurt like hell. Grace got a very good lead and I'm so proud of her I can feel my face splitting with the intensity of my grin. Colleen I originally thought had gotten a better role than me too (for which I was very happy for her) but then she told me it was just like mine. It's selfish to say that I was a little comforted by it, but I was. I couldn't focus for the rest of the day and it was hard not to cry but when my friends were around I tried to hide it so I wouldn't bring them down at all. After all, they deserve everything they get and more, they're so wonderful. I finally found comfort in the song Come Travel With Me in the Quabbin Valley Music Festival last year. In the recording on the highest note you can hear me above everyone else, operatic and beautiful. It's the only thing that reminds me of how beautiful I can sing, that I had a voice better than anyone's in that stupid school. It's the one thing I'm good at.

The opera star I caught a glimpse of in this song spurns me for being so childlike. I know I can do better, it's not my fault that I have no place to practice anymore. I have the voice of an angel- but the timidity of a mouse when put on the spot. Yes, I am very proud of this voice. No, I don't care how arrogant I sound. I can do very little right, all I do is screw everything up. This, at least, I know I can do. This, at least, may redeem me slightly in the gazes of the stars I wish to join one day floating in the heavens.


	15. Chapter 15

January 15, 2012- sometime far away

VOICE LESSONS! Finally! My mother arranged for me to have lessons every Friday night at eight in the next town over to the north with Colleen's piano teacher. I went this past Friday for my first one and enjoyed the hell out of it. My new teacher (Rick) is frigging hysterical. He made me giggle the whole time and didn't seem too put out with my great enthusiasm and excitement. H e was really nice and form the way he spoke about music and about my lessons he knows exactly what he's talking about. He told me we're going to work on Phantom of the Opera next week. HOLY SHIT! I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY I COULD CRY! I love PTO! We're going to sing Think of Me and other amazing stuffs from it. The lessons are only half an hour, but who gives a shit? I'm still learning how to better something that I love and am already very good at. Hehe when he warmed up my voice a little to hear it he told me it was very pretty. Granted I'm paying him to tell me that, but it still felt nice. I think I'm going to my lessons and this teacher. This is going to be wonderful, I know it.

Sir Boston Opera House, Lady Broadway, here I damn well come!


End file.
